


It's been you all the time...

by Daughter_of_Scotland



Series: Steter Short Stories [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biting, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_Scotland/pseuds/Daughter_of_Scotland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Peter being back, Stiles remembers feelings he thought he’d burned along with the older man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's been you all the time...

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "You’re the sun, you’re the only one"

“Fuck,” was all Stiles could say when he finally, _finally_ realized what had happened. Peter was back.

After everything had cleared up with Jackson, Stiles stared at the older man, feeling his blood drain from his face. And when their eyes met, Peter smirking at him, he remembered, with startling clarity, that night in the car park and a whispered question that still haunted his nightmares.

Stiles swallowed and moved to the driver side of his jeep.

“I need to go home,” he said, clearing his throat. “My, uhm. My dad’s gonna freak if he finds out I’m gone again. He’s a bit on the over protective side right now, so…”

He trailed off as he realized that no one paid him any attention so he shrugged, started the car and left.

He shivered as he looked into the rearview mirror and saw Peter staring after him.

 

***

 

That night, while his dad was at work, Stiles sat on his bed, clad only in boxers and a shirt, trying in vain to clear his mind.

All he could see were Peter’s eyes, feel Peter’s hand on his wrist, shiver under his breath and –

“Can’t sleep?”

Stiles let out a loud yelp and stared at the window. Peter casually closed it behind himself after getting fully into the room and turned around, lifting an eyebrow at Stiles.  
”It’s late. Shouldn’t you try to rest, after your run-in with the Argents?”

Stiles couldn’t answer. He blanched again and his hands curled into fists on his legs as he tried his best to not give into his flight instinct.

“What are you doing here?” he croaked. “Can’t you werewolves use a front door?”

Peter chuckled. “You wouldn’t have let me in if I’d rang the bell, right?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and didn’t answer, it was a rhetorical question.

Peter leaned against the window sill, his whole stance relaxed and comfortable.

“I wanted to talk to you,” the older man said. “Alone, I mean. I don’t need Derek and his little pups overhearing. Though, now it’s just pup, I suppose.”

Stiles flinched. After Scott’s declaration and Erica and Boyd still being on the run, Derek had only Isaac left. And Peter, apparently.

“How can you be back?” Stiles asked, hearing the desperation in his voice. “I saw you. We burned you and Derek killed you. How can you be back?”

Peter was quiet for a moment. “Yes, burning a fire victim… not very nice, but smart. It was your idea, I’m guessing?”

He didn’t wait for an answer and continued. “As for how… Let’s say, Ms. Martin will feel considerably more alone in her head from now on. Not my finest moment, I admit, but I needed a backup plan and she worked beautifully.”

Stiles grit his teeth. “You’re a monster,” he spat. “Using a girl like that…”

Peter chuckled again. “Well, I wasn’t really in my right mind at the time now, was I? But I’m better now.”

Suddenly he was standing in front of Stiles and the boy jerked back, falling on his back and scrambling up on his elbows, moving up the bed.

Peter’s eyes gleamed yellow. “I’m actually here to talk to you about something else though,” he said, stepping between Stiles’ legs that were still hanging off the bed. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

Stiles couldn’t help it, he nodded. Right. The car park. “You can’t turn me anymore,” he said desperately. “You’re not the Alpha.”

Peter nodded slowly. “That is true. Though I wonder why Derek hasn’t done it yet… You would be the perfect wolf, Stiles, I didn’t lie when I said that. You’re loyal and smart but also cunning and ready to do what the situation requieres. You’re already a great addition to a pack, even as a human. As a wolf you’d be magnificent.”

Stiles couldn’t help the warm feeling that washed over him at these words. He wasn’t often told that he was good for something other than research.

“Well, Derek apparently doesn’t share you opinion,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “He never offered to bite me. And even if he did – I don’t want it.”

Peter smiled and leaned forward. He was now kneeling on the bed with one leg, his knee dangerously close to Stiles’ crotch and the boy scooped up further.

“Ah, but see,” the man practically purred. “I can still hear your heartbeat and it’s still off when you say that. You’re lying, Stiles… Just as you were lying when I first offered.”

He grabbed Stiles’ hand and pulled him closer. Stiles gasped as his wrist was as close to Peter’s mouth as it had been once before.

“Don’t,” he cried but his breathing sped up.

Peter’s smile widened. “You don’t want to become a werewolf,” he said slowly, in understanding. “But you do want a bite… Isn’t that right, Stiles?”

 

Stiles whimpered. He couldn’t help himself, all his buried emotions crashed back onto him all at once.

How he’d felt when Peter had grabbed him the first time, the rush of something he only later recognized as arousal when those teeth had been so close to his tender flesh… He remembered how he’d jerked off that night, disgusted with himself but with images of Peter haunting him. When he came, he’d bitten his own arm so hard he drew blood to keep from crying out the older man’s name and it made him orgasm even harder.

He’d tried to forget about it after they’d killed Peter, but the man returned in his dreams almost every night and when he did Stiles always woke up hard and aching.

After a while he just accepted it, stopped being disgusted by himself when he jerked off to the memory of Peter, or fantasies involving the man. He was gone and no one would ever know and some day it would stop on it’s own.

But now Peter was back and so were his fantasies.

 

“Oh, _Stiles_ ,” Peter breathed and Stiles found himself on his back, the older man leaning above him, one leg still between his own. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it back then,” he continued, nosing along Stiles’ chin and jaw. “But your _smell_ … It’s intoxicating.”

Stiles whimpered again and pushed against Peter’s chest. “Get off,” he said but even in his own ears it sounded weak. “I don’t… I don’t want this, I –“

“You’re lying again,” Peter interrupted him and bit down on Stiles’ neck.

The boy cried out as his hips bucked up. Heat flared through him and he stared at Peter who’d drawn back almost immediately, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“See,” he said, pressing his leg against Stiles’ hardening cock through his boxers. “You do want a bite. But maybe it’s not mine? Do you think of Derek biting you when you’re alone at night? Or maybe one of the pups?”

Stiles swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. His hands fisted into Peter’s shirt and he could feel his resolve and arguments crumbling, the bite on his neck throbbing in time with his heart beat.

“No,” he said, barely audible even for Peter. “I want… I want you to bite me.” He looked back up at the man, licking his lips. “In my head… it’s always been you.”

 

Lips crashed down on his, biting and licking and Stiles could only open his mouth, letting Peter’s tongue invade his mouth, _devouring_ him, as the man’s leg nudged and rubbed against his cock. Hands were running up and down his throat and under his shirt, scratching the skin there.

After what felt like ages Peter pulled back. His eyes were bright yellow but the rest of his face was completely human.

“You can’t imagine how often I’ve thought about this since I’ve been back,” he growled, kissing his way down to Stiles’ neck. “Marking you as mine… show Derek how worthy you are… I discovered you, Stiles. You belong to me. You’re mine.”

He bit down again, harder this time, sucking a deep bruise into the skin while Stiles could only moan.

“Answer me,” Peter snapped. “You belong to me, am I right?”

“Yes,” Stiles answered without thinking. “I’m yours – oh god. I’m yours.”

 

Peter pulled back at that. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered and Stiles scrambled to obey while the man pulled off his own shirt.

Stiles hesitated at his boxers and looked up carefully. “I, uhm… I’ve never actually done this,” he said, blushing in embarrassment. “I’m not… I mean, uhm…”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Relax,” he told him, opening his belt and pushing down his pants along with his boxers. “I’m not gonna deflower you tonight, Stiles.”

He grinned. “I will make you scream my name though.”

With that he pulled off his pants and leaned back, letting Stiles stare at him for a while, lazily stroking his own cock until it was fully hard.

Stiles swallowed and finally got rid of his own boxers, precome already dampening the fabric.

Peter looked him up and down slowly, making Stiles squirm and wanted to hide himself but he gripped the sheets instead.

“You done leering?” he mumbled and Peter looked back at his face.

“You’re mine,” he repeated calmly. “I can leer at you whenever I want.”

Stiles shivered but didn’t get a chance to answer as Peter bend back down and kissed him again, slower than before but just as dirty. His hands moved over Stiles’ chest before they reached his nipples and rubbed, making Stiles arch of the bed, his hands scrambling at Peter’s shoulders.

For a while, Peter continued doing this, rubbing and pinching Stiles’ nipples while he swallowed each gasp and moan with his mouth, before moving down to suck more marks into his neck.

Stiles lost track of time as Peter moved down his body, biting various points of his chest, leaving marks all over him. He felt dizzy and his cock throbbed almost painfully.  
”Please,” he whimpered. “Please, I need… I need to…”

Peter looked at him from where he was sucking at his hip bone. “You need what?” he asked, scraping his teeth over the flesh.

Stiles flushed even more. “I – I need to come… Please, I can’t… I need it, please…”

He cut himself off with a cry when Peter swallowed his cock, hollowed his cheeks and _sucked._

“Oh my god,” Stiles cried, one hand fisting in Peter’s hair and the other in the sheets. Peter’s arm went over his stomach to hold him still as he tried to buck up and push even deeper into Peter’s mouth.

“Oh god, fuck, I can’t – _Peter!”_

Peter pulled back before Stiles could come though and the boy cried out again in desperation.

“Relax,” the older man said and grabbed Stiles’ cock as he moved up the bed again. “I’m not letting you stay like this…”

Stiles gasped as he felt Peter grasping his own cock alongside Stiles’, his saliva and the precome of the both of them providing a nice slide.

Peter moved his hand up and down slowly a few times and Stiles sobbed at the feeling of Peter’s head catching under his own.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” he babbled, pulling Peter down for another, desperate kiss. “Please,” he mumbled against his lips. “Oh, please, please _please!”_

Peter groaned as he sped up his movements, jerking them fast and hard. He was very close himself, Stiles’ pleas turning him on more than he’d imagined.

“You’re mine,” he repeated, growling into Stiles’ skin. “No one else can have you.”

Stiles nodded frantically. “Yours,” he gasped out, digging his nails into Peter’s back, knowing the scratches would heal within seconds and hating it. “But you’re mine, too.”

Peter came with a low howl at those words, losing some of his controls during his orgasm and sinking his fangs deep into Stiles’ shoulder.

The boy _screamed,_ just as Peter had promised, and his body stilled as he reached his own orgasm, adding his semen to Peter’s, coating the man’s hand and Stiles’ stomach and chest.

 

They both breathed heavily as they calmed down, Peter retracting his fangs and lapping over the wounds, tasting Stiles’ blood with a moan.  
”Does it need stitches?” the boy asked tiredly but Peter shook his head.

“No. It will heal on its own.” He traced the mark with his fingers, making Stiles shudder. Then he let go of them both, reaching for the Kleenex he’d seen on the nightstand to clean them both up.

“So…” Stiles said after a while, turning his head to look at Peter. “That whole… possession thing. Was that just because of the sex or…?”

Peter held his eyes and shook his head. “No. You’re mine now, Stiles.” He smirked. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily again.”

Stiles swallowed. “But… why me? I mean, I’m just… Just a human.”

Peter’s eyes softened and he traced the bite mark again. “I told you,” he answered. “You’re special.” He smiled, a truly warm and open smile. “To me, you’re perfect.”

Stiles couldn’t help but return the smile as he moved his body around so he could pillow his head on Peter’s chest, closing his eyes.

That night he slept without dreams.


End file.
